Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Run.
Get away.
I bolt down the hallway in search of anyone at this dumb party that I trust. My arm stings from where he grabbed me, and I press the cool can of seltzer over the spot.
The music’s so loud my head throbs. My panicked gaze pings around the house. The kitchen and dining room are crowded. A guy who’s in my physics class is trying to execute a headstand on top of a keg. Apparently he learned nothing about the distribution of weight with respect to gravitational force. He lands on his back with a thud that shakes the floor. Beer pools around him and his friends howl with laughter.
“You okay?” I shout while his buddies continue to mock him.
He giggles and rolls onto his side. “Yeah. You want next?”
Idiots.
“Nope. I’m good.” I just want to go home.
Trying to push the ugliness of what happened away, I take a few deep breaths and circle around the dining table to avoid passing Wesley in the hallway again.
In the living room, I find an unoccupied corner of the couch and fling myself into it. Does my shirt provide enough camouflage to blend into the floral upholstery?
I slowly turn my head, scanning the packed room. In darkened corners where they probably think they’re invisible, couples are busy exploring each others’ tonsils.
Still no sign of Hayden. Did she abandon her own party?
I spot Darcy across the room engrossed in a conversation with a guy on the football team. He keeps leaning in close, brushing his fingers against her thigh. Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?
Oh, Darcy, no, girl. Don’t go there.
I continue searching what I can see of the living room. No sign of Kyla or Jenn. Loud chatter and nonsensical conversations compete with the thumping music. If the party gets any louder, Hayden’s neighbors are bound to call the cops. I can’t be here for that.
Who the hell are half these people?
I cross my arms over my chest and swallow down my discomfort.
How can I be in a house full of people and still feel so alone?
My phone vibrates against my hip, and I shift lower in my seat, shove my hand in my pocket, and yank it out.
Griff: How’s your party?
My lips curve into the biggest smile. I’m supposed to be having fun with my friends, but I’m happier about a text from Griff than anything going on around me.
Should I wait to answer? Let him wonder what I’m doing and who I’m doing it with, the way I always wonder who has his attention?
No, screw that.
I can’t tell him what’s happened, though. Or that I’m miserable and wish I was home.
Me: Get there in one piece?
Griff: Yup. Ride was good.
Me: Is Remy okay?
Griff: So far, so good. How’s your party?
I could write a wall of text about how this isn’t the night I’d expected. Or how some guy I barely know randomly asked me for a blow job and offered to spurt semen on my chest. No. I definitely can’t tell Griff that. But if I don’t answer, he’ll know something’s wrong.
Me: Meh
There. That sums up my whole night.
Griff: What’s wrong?
My thumb hovers over the screen. Should I tell him my friends are all drunk and I’m bored?
Me: Just your basic snooze fest.
Something thumps against my foot, jarring me out of my thoughts. I glance up and find Wesley staring down at me.
My stomach drops. Not again.
“Why’d you come to a party just to sit on your phone?” he asks, totally normal. Like he didn’t just try to rub himself all over me or offer to stick his dick down my throat.
“Texting my boyfriend.” There, that should make him go away.
“I don’t believe you.” He grabs for my phone, but I tuck it behind me in my back pocket and glare up at him.
He smirks in return. “You’re fast.” His goofy expression fades. “Sorry about before.” He wobbles his thumb in the direction of the hallway. “I’m kinda drunk.”
I narrow my eyes and study him. Unfortunately, I have plenty of experience dealing with drunks. “Alcohol doesn’t change your personality—it reveals it.”
He drops into the narrow space next to me, forcing me to inch over. The couple making out at the other end of the couch turn and glare at him for the interruption, but he ignores them.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a buzzkill, Molly?”
“Probably.” I shrug as if his words haven’t hurt my feelings. “I don’t give enough of a fuck to remember, though.”
He rests his hand on my leg. My skin crawls. I glare at the spot where he’s touching me—right above my knee. Thank God I didn’t wear my dress. I’d scream if we were having skin-on-skin contact. I shift my leg away.
“Are you a virgin, Molly?” He leans in so close, his warm, sour breath mists over my cheek. Ewww. My entire body cringes from the stink. “Is that why you’re so shy?”